


Just a Day

by Alexwritesfics



Series: Alex's Drabble Challenge [6]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Depression, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationship, Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Texting, Weight loss/disordered eating, could be interpreted otherwise though, emotional breakdown, modern!AU, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexwritesfics/pseuds/Alexwritesfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is fired and becomes plagued with dark thoughts. Andy only hopes he can get to him in time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Bluest Blue](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Bluest+Blue).



> _"How come it ended up like this?/And who's gonna catch me when I'm coming down to hit the ground again?"_  
>   
> 
> The title's a Feeder song and the lyrics above belong to it. Woah, look at those cheerful, cheerful tags. This was a request given to me a while back from Blue, so hey Blue, if you're still around here, I hope you like it x I know this is darker than my usual stuff but I wanted to explore the possibility of suicide in Thomas' future, and just to clarify, this fic isn't meant to accurately portray the best way of helping a suicidal friend, nor is Andy meant to be painted as Thomas' saviour. Thomas has a long way to go to feel better, but I like to think of this as the start of his recovery. I hope I did an alright job. Enjoy x

_A: U ok?_

_T: Fine._

_A: R u sure?_

_A: i dont think what they did was fair & im sorry if i caused any truble_

Andy sighed down at his phone. He had a pretty good feeling Thomas wouldn't reply to that, but he wanted to make his case known. Part of him was cringing at the clearly bad spelling and grammar on his own texts - always so different from Thomas, but he'd never been very good with words. Besides, Thomas didn't usually seem to mind.

Thomas being fired from his job had hit Andy hard, so he couldn't imagine how the man himself must be feeling.

Andy could only hope that Thomas was coping well.

~*~

It had been three weeks.

Andy hadn't wanted to push anything, but Thomas hadn't been answering anyone's texts or calls, not even Phyllis Baxter's. Andy knew they were close, so Thomas' avoidance of her troubled him no end.

That day at work he decided to give Thomas as a call, but there was no answer, and so Andy was forced to go back to the impersonality and inherent bad grammar of texting.

_A: Hey_

There was no reply for about twenty minutes, so Andy strolled over to the water cooler and got himself something to drink. His phone flashed once he'd sat down, and Andy couldn't help but smile, nervous anticipation starting up in his stomach. He liked and respected Thomas Barrow a lot, and so he was always glad to hear from him, but the young Londoner was also apprehensive in case Thomas felt like he was badgering him.

_T: Hello_

_Hmm._ It was hard for Andy to start a conversation with just a hello, so he paused in consideration before picking up his phone to reply.

_A: how r things?_

_T: I'm fine. I wish you'd all stop asking though._

Andy felt that same nervousness in the pit of his stomach from earlier return.

_A: im sorry if i interupred you or anytihng_

There was a slight pause before Thomas messaged Andy again. 

_T: No, it's fine. I'm not doing anything. Please tell Phyllis I'm alright. I think she's worried._

_A: will dO! i jus wanted 2 no how u were doing_

_T: How are you?_

_A: fine i miss our lessns tho_

_T: Did you go for the test?_

Thomas had been the one to suggest a dyslexia test in the first place, and Andy had reluctantly gone along like his former superior had said. It had felt strange with no-one to talk to about it, and he was glad that he and Thomas were on more familiar ground.

_A: i did yeh_

_A: I shud get the result,s in a few days_

_T: Well that's good. I'm glad you went._

Andy drained the last of the water from the plastic cup, mouth suddenly feeling rather dry again.

He decided to take a risk.

_A: hey do u think i could,come over fr a bit?_

There was no reply.

Andy swallowed nervously, eyes returning back to his paperwork. His boss, Mister Carson, wouldn't be best pleased with him if he didn't make any productive use of his shift.

Andy resolved to put Thomas' reply - or lack thereof - out of his mind for now. He was still quite new to the company in comparison to the other employees, and he didn't want to show himself up. He had pressing work to concentrate on-

-Andy's phone screen flashed. A text message. A text message from Thomas.

_T: It's a bit of a mess around here._

_A: i dont mind_

And really, Andy didn't. He didn't care what state Thomas' flat was in - he just wanted to know what state _Thomas_ was in. He was getting worried about Thomas - everyone at the office was.

There was another pause, before Thomas sent Andy another text.

_T: Well, alright then. If you want._

Andy sensed that was as good as an answer he was going to get right now, and so he grabbed his jacket and resolved to take an earlier lunch break.

~*~

Andy knocked tentatively on the dark-green door of Thomas' flat.

There was some shuffling and swearing as Thomas searched for his keys, then the door was finally unlocked.

It opened slowly, and Andy took in the sight of a dishevelled Thomas.

He looked slightly thinner, though not overtly so - it _had_ been only been a few weeks, in retrospect. Still, his trousers hung a little less snugly on his hips. The bags underneath his eyes, which had grown steadily darker and more prominent throughout Thomas' final days spent at Grantham Industries, had gotten even worse. His eyes themselves were a duller grey than Andy was accustomed to, as if they were somehow in need of a polish. Thomas' dark hair stuck up all over the place, in tufts and bunches, as if he hadn't brushed it or given it its usual prescription of hair product for days.

He was wearing a plaid shirt and ripped jeans, which from the evidence of creases looked like they'd been slept in.

He gave a small, tired smile and cleared his throat. It sounded awful.

Andy snapped out of his assessment of Thomas' demeanour, trying a winning smile. 'Afternoon, Thomas. I was just in the neighbourhood, and I-I'm on my lunch break, so I thought I'd stop by-'

Thomas' face had fallen slightly at the mention of a "lunch break" - perhaps he just didn't like hearing about work at the moment. Andy vowed to avoid the topic of his job when possible from now on.

'It's good to see you,' Thomas replied, though his tone suggested otherwise. And _by God,_ his voice sounded terrible. It was scratchy and hoarse, as if Thomas was coming down with something - Andy sincerely hoped this wasn't the case, because the man had already been through enough lately, even though it would go some way to explaining Thomas' appearance and general lack of communication. Thomas rubbed the sleep out of one of his eyes, finally gesturing for Andy to come in.

Andy nodded in gratitude and stepped inside, ducking his head slightly so it didn't come into contact with the door frame.

It was... Strange to say the least.

Thomas' usually decently-kept apartment looked like a bomb had hit it. He'd been right about the mess. Picked clean takeaway boxes and empty packets of cigarettes - which explained the dire state of Thomas' throat - littered the floor and sofa. There were pillows from Thomas' bed strewn out all over the carpet, and there were chips of glass by the kitchen counter that clearly couldn't be accommodated for in the overflowing bin. A mound of dishes was left uncleaned in the sink.

'Like I said, it's pretty messy in here,' Thomas said, sounding damn near halfway embarrassed.

'And like _I_ said, it's fine.' Andy tried on a smile again and sat down on a kitchen chair, unconsciously pushing an open pizza box on the table away from himself.

Thomas cleared his throat again, a little more awkwardly this time around. 'Er, so, do you want some tea, or something? I could always make you some.'

'I'll make it, if you want,' Andy said. 'You look a little tired...'

Thomas laughed, though it was a tiny, strangely empty sound. He stood with his back to Andy, gazing at the kettle. A dripping tap permeated the silence that followed. 'It's kind of strange because I barely do anything anymore,' Thomas said after a while. 'There's nothing much for me to be getting on with 'round here. But I _am_ tired, I guess.'

'So, shall I...?'

'-N-No, no, I'll do it,' Thomas said quickly. 'It would be nice- it would be nice to do it.'

The "it would be nice to feel useful" hung awkwardly and unsaid in the air.

~*~

Andy shook hands with Thomas as he got up to leave. It felt a bit too formal, but he hadn't known what else to do. It had felt bizarre, talking with this version of Thomas. Andy knew logically that this was the true Thomas through and through, the Thomas he had met a year or so ago, but the change had been rapid.

Thomas seemed rather distracted when holding a conversation, fatigued and pessimistic. It was if a dark cloud was shadowing him and holding him back from saying what he truly wanted to say. Thomas hadn't exactly been Mister Sunshine when Andy had first met him, but he'd been a great deal more sure of himself and focused. Thomas had held onto that particular handshake for a little longer than necessary, as if he was enjoying the human contact, as if he truly didn't want Andy to go, but immediately afterwards he was back to being aloof.

From what Andy knew - he hadn't wanted to ask outright - Thomas was currently still unemployed. And that was worrying as far as Andy was concerned. Thomas was basically married to his work, he _lived_ for his work, even if he didn't always get on with the people who worked there alongside him.

There were other warning signs, too. The tea's milk was just on the turn from the looks of the date on the back - the rest of the fridge looking rather sparse in terms of content - and Andy saw a crumpled can of cider at the back of the sofa on his way out, propped up by the wall.

Andy had instantly remembered with painful clarity the first time they'd went out, sat in a dingy little place in London called the Velvet Violin. _"I don't drink,"_ Thomas had said back then. _"Not anymore."_

But Thomas didn't like to be badgered or interrogated. He was a grown bloody man and Andy knew he wouldn't appreciate the third degree from someone whom he used to be superior to.

Still, Andy felt like he ought to keep more of an eye on his troubled friend.

~*~

_A: Hey, fancy coming up 2 the pub with me tonite?_

Andy had tried his best to improve his grammar a little when texting Thomas, part of him still wanting to impress Thomas. But Andy knew he probably wasn't going to get a reply, or if there was one, it would probably be just another excuse. Thomas was hard to reach nowadays, but texting him made Andy feel a little less useless in the situation.

There was a pause before-

_T: I'm sorry. I don't really feel like going out tonight. Maybe some other time eh?_

Andy bit his lip. It wasn't just a simple case of Thomas avoiding Andy, which Andy guessed he could make his peace with - Thomas was avoiding _everyone_ and becoming increasingly isolated. To his credit, he _had_ let Phyllis visit, and he'd actually started replying to Andy's texts. But according to Miss Baxter, Thomas hardly left the flat these days, got angry if Phyllis stopped by unannounced like she frequently used to and was generally looking thinner and more haggard than ever.

Andy didn't know what to do. He couldn't do anything if Thomas wasn't willing to let Andy back into his life.

But when he was finally ready to talk about the things he was going through, Andy wanted to make sure he'd be there for him.

~*~

The weeks began to blur and Andy's worry increased.

'Have you seen Thomas lately?' Daisy asked as she walked past Andy's desk.

Andy leaned back in his chair for a moment, setting down his pen. '...No.'

'I'm sure he's busy or something.'

'Y-Yeah.' Andy laughed ruefully and ran a hand through his curls nervously. 'Here's to hoping.' He didn't like the idea of Thomas all alone in his house. Sitting. Sleeping. Brooding. Stagnating.

~*~

_T: Please call me_

_T: please_

The texts came in quick succession of each other in the middle of the night.

Andy groaned and stretched, sitting up in bed as fast as he was able. The unnatural glow from his phone's screen hurt his eyes.

Andy looked at the texts and felt panic, cold and swirling, spread in his stomach. It was an all-consuming fear.

He instantly tapped his phone to view Thomas' contact page, thanking the past him for putting his phone on charge for the night. If the power had cut off on him now, he would have felt even more panicked.

Thomas needed him.

Andy pressed "Call".

There was static on the other end, some shuffling, and then some laboured breathing which Andy recognised as Thomas'. 'Th-Thomas?' Andy called tentatively.

'I can't do this, I can't do this anymore, please, Andy, _p-pleasecomeover..._ ' Thomas said, and Andy's heart broke then and there. Thomas sounded drunk; his speech was slurred and he seemed to be grasping desperately for his words. He sounded like he was crying.

'Oh, Thomas,' Andy said with feeling, and Thomas sobbed audibly.

'P-Please, please come over, I-I don't want to be 'lone, Andy, I don't know, I don't know wh-what I might do-'

Andy snapped out of his shock at those words. He took a deep breath and said: 'S-Stay calm Thomas. Just... Just stay where you are, okay? I'm on my way now.'

He put the phone on speaker and lay it on his bedside table again, picking up a t-shirt from the floor and pulling it on.

'Andy, I don't know what to do...' Thomas was still sobbing and it was near-unbearable for Andy to listen to.

'I-Is there anyone else I can call for you?' Andy asked quickly, trying to pull on his jeans as fast as he could.

'I, no... I just want you, you're the only one who-' Another sob.

'Okay then. It's... It's just gonna be me.' Andy bit his lip as he shoved his shoes on, not bothering to untie them. '...Don't be scared. I'll be right there as soon as I can.'

'I-I'm sorry-'

'-Don't be. It's gonna be fine, I swear.'

~*~

'Thomas?' Andy called out, not even bothering to seem calm as he hurried across the corridor to Thomas' door. He knocked, but it creaked open without the aid of the flat's owner.

'Thomas...?' Andy said again, stepping into the flat.

Thomas crouched on the floor by the sofa, head in his hands.

He was trembling.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps, face blotchy and red from tears. '...Andy?'

The whole room smelled strongly of whiskey.

Andy steeled himself and took a few steps closer towards his friend, slowly taking off his jacket. '...You alright, Thomas?'

 _What a stupid fucking question,_ he admonished himself. _He's obviously not alright._

But Thomas seemed to appreciate Andy's question all the same, nodding in a way that appeared to be beckoning Andy closer. The older man was wearing stained and creased clothing, and he was barefoot. He was even thinner than the last time Andy had visited him.

There was more smashed glass on the floor, probably an accident on the account of Thomas being so thoroughly sloshed. Andy gingerly sat down on the floor next to Thomas, hoping to God he hadn't touched any of the sharp shards. Or that Thomas hadn't either.

'Andy...' Thomas said, and it sounded weak and broken. '...Y-You came.'

Andy tried to force a smile, before thinking better of it. '...It's good to see ya, Thomas,' he said truthfully. _Good to see you alive, if not entirely well._

Andy had got here in time, it seemed.

Unless-

-Andy felt himself grow cold when he spotted a bottle of sleeping pills amongst the mess on the coffee table.

- _Oh god, no-_

'D-D'you feel sick, Thomas?' Andy asked in a tone tense but still calmer than he truly felt. 'C-Can I help you to the bathroom o-or something?'

'I didn't take nothing...' Thomas said, voice still slurring as he swayed in his sitting position. 'I didn't take _anything..._ ' Both phrases were quite contradictory, but he seemed to be saying that he hadn't gone through with anything he was planning to do.

'C-Can I trust you?'

Thomas put a hand on Andy's arm. It was cold. Clammy. Shaky. 'Yeah,' he said.

'Should I call 999?' Andy asked, the question directed more at himself than Thomas.

' _N-No,_ ' Thomas said with feeling. 'No doctors... I just... didn't know what to do.'

 _Well, neither do I!_ Andy thought.

His friend was still shivering, his teeth chattering slightly.

'Thomas? Are you cold?' Andy said.

Thomas nodded dumbly. Andy picked up his jacket from where he'd left it on the floor and wrapped it around Thomas' shoulders loosely, careful not to make his friend feel trapped or anything.

Thomas started to sob again, quietly, leaning and collapsing on Andy's side. The older man smelled like hadn't showered in a while, and his face was wet from tears. Andy held him clumsily, petting Thomas' greasy, unwashed hair. Andy heard a small utterance of "I don't want to be here anymore" and his heart broke all over again.

'...Ssssh. I'm here. I'll take care of you until we figure out what to do, s-so don't worry about anything.'

Thomas nodded, tear-filled eyes kept down.

'Let's get you cleaned up then,' Andy said with a barely-audible sigh.

~*~

Andy found himself wincing as he cleaned up Thomas' bathroom, raiding the medicine cabinet until there were no pills left for Thomas get at, and no razors for him to use. Thomas could do with a bit of a shave, Andy even thought it might make his friend feel more like his old self, but... Well, Andy didn't exactly trust Thomas with sharp objects right now.

Thomas sat on the closed toilet lid with a thousand yard stare.

'You alright to shower on your own?' Andy asked tentatively. He was worried Thomas might slip and fall in his unstable, intoxicated state.

But Thomas nodded with a strangely determined look on his tear-streaked face and Andy knew it would be hard to argue with him.

'I'll be right out there if you need me, then,' Andy said, opening the bathroom door to leave. 'I-I'm just going to make you some tea to sober you up. You call me if you need help with something, okay?' Andy meant it. He didn't care if Thomas couldn't even wash himself at this point; he just wanted to help Thomas feel better. It was quite frankly horrible to see Thomas so vulnerable and lonely.

Thomas simply nodded again.

Andy made sure the door didn't lock before he left Thomas to it.

Just in case.

~*~

Andy hurried back into the bathroom with the unmistakable sound of vomiting assaulting his ears.

And lo and behold, there was Thomas, still dripping and stark naked from his shower, entire body tensing as he retched into the toilet. Andy sighed shakily, leaning down to stroke Thomas' back. '...That's it, get it all up,' Andy said, wincing to himself as the retching grew a little more volatile. 'Better out than in.' He didn't give a damn about the lack of clothes Thomas had on - he knew for a fact that Thomas was gay, and he was sometimes gossiped about because of it down at the office, but Andy wasn't an idiot. There was nothing sexual in their relationship, after all.

If anything, it made Andy respect Thomas even more. Thomas had eventually opened up to Andy about when he'd came out. Thomas had been kicked out aged seventeen by his parents because of it. They hadn't spoken to him since. Thomas still seemed proud of who he was, and Andy one day wished to be so brave and sure of who he was.

The retching devolved into more sobbing, and Andy rubbed his back all the same, other hand reaching for a towel with which to dry Thomas off.

~*~

After both of them forcing down the now-tepid tea, Andy reckoned it was time for some sleep. Thomas had done nothing in the way of a response except nod again with that same glassy gaze. He _had_ eventually co-operated though, brushing his teeth and changing into fresh boxers and a t-shirt. He'd needed help with the last one due to his sudden confusion about sleeves. As always, Andy didn't mind. Thomas had had to stop half-way through changing to lean over the toilet again. This time nothing had come up, and Andy hoped it was a good sign that Thomas was holding down his tea.

Andy put Thomas to bed on his side with a bowl next to him in case he was sick again. Then the younger man ventured out to find a magazine and a chair so he could stay with Thomas for the night. He considered calling Miss Baxter, but he settled on the decision to call Mister Carson in the morning and say he'd been sick during the night so he could spend the day with Thomas.

He stopped dead when he saw the place where Thomas had been crouched. Glass still littered the floor, and there was an empty whiskey bottle lying underneath the sofa.

Andy began to cry.

It was small to begin with. Tears slowly gathered in his eyes as he pulled a chair over to where Thomas' bedroom door was, but as he began scrabbling uselessly at the mess on the coffee table to find something to read, a sob ripped its way out of his throat. He quickly put his hand over his mouth to stifle any more telltale sounds as the world began to blur. He furiously scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and begged himself not to weep any further.

Thomas needed him. But it was getting to all be a bit much for the young Londoner.

Thomas was the older one of the two friends, proud and hardworking, always willing to help Andy out with his English GCSE (the one he kept bloody failing, which Carson or indeed the rest of Grantham Industries were unaware of) or come 'round with a cheesy movie to watch when it had been a tough day at the office.

He always seemed to know what to do, and now Andy had to be the one to take the lead and make the important decisions. Andy had never dealt with a breakdown like this before. Andy had a feeling that if it was himself that got so low and hopeless, Thomas would try to help him as well.

Andy felt an overwhelming rush of affection for Thomas and the happier times they'd shared. They felt like a lifetime away just then, or just a particularly wonderful dream. He didn't know if things would ever be the same, and that frightened him. He couldn't help but sob again for a minute or two, but then he wiped his eyes and blew his nose with a handkerchief.

It was back to work for him now.

~*~

'I haven't drank like that since Philip,' Thomas said, sounding a great deal more sober.

'Huh?' Andy looked up from his magazine. It was - he quickly checked his watch - about 4AM.

'Philip,' Thomas said, a sombre little smile on his face. His voice sounded rough from the cigarettes, the crying and the vomiting. '...My first proper boyfriend. It... It didn't end well at all, actually.'

'That's a shame...' Andy said softly. 'First loves never usually do, do they?'

'He wasn't my first love. But I _did_ love him.' Thomas sighed and turned over in the bed. '...God, it was a bloody mess. I hit the bottle pretty hard afterwards, and that didn't end well either.'

Andy laughed nervously. 'It doesn't seem like it.'

'...Andy, I'm so, so sorry.'

'What for?'

'I must have really - _hic_ \- r-really scared you back there.'

'Don't think about it. Just get some rest... We'll talk about it in the morning.'

'I really _am_ sorry, though. I shouldn't have dragged you into this.'

Andy sighed and got up from his chair, setting the magazine down and walking over to the bed. '...Would you have left me, if I was that upset?'

Thomas shook his head, wincing at the pain it caused him. 'You're... You're important to me. You're my friend.'

'Exactly.' Andy held out a hand and Thomas took it, smiling wanly.

'I don't know what happened tonight, Andy...' Thomas said, licking his lips nervously. 'I, I probably won't remember this in the morning, will I?'

Andy shrugged in an attempt to appear casual. 'I don't know. Probably not.'

'I felt so empty when they f-fired me. That job was my life, a-as pathetic as that sounds. I f-feel like I have nothing, and I wanted to call you and Phyllis so _badly_ , I wanted to see how you were doing, I didn't want to be on my own, but a-all it did was remind me that you all have lives to lead without me. I don't feel like meself anymore, and it's horrible. I-It's not like I've never been unemployed before, but I just - I broke. I broke down, and it's pathetic of me, and I still feel empty even now and I feel like I'll n-never be the same again-' Thomas sniffed slightly, tears in his eyes again. '-A-And all this bloody drama over a fucking _job_ , I'm a wretch, I'm-'

'-Listen to me,' Andy interjected, quietly but vehemently. 'You're not "a wretch". You're Thomas Barrow. That's all you're ever going to need to be. And this is _not_ pathetic of you. Honestly, you have gone through so much utter _shit_ to get to here - a-and I know you don't want pity for it. But you can't deny that life's kind of stacked it up against you. Th-There's so many things that could've triggered this, a-and I don't blame you for breaking down like that. All I've done is lose a little bit of sleep. I'll live. And it's worth it if you're still alive. Good lord, I don't know what I'd do if you went. You mean so m-much to me, Thomas. So fucking much.' Andy's voice began to break and he wiped at his his eyes again with the hand that wasn't holding Thomas'.

Thomas was looking at him strangely, as if trying to figure something out. 'Wh-What is it?' Andy asked.

'...I've hardly ever heard you swear before,' Thomas admitted.

Andy laughed despite himself and this horrible situation, squeezing Thomas' hand.

There was a pause, before Thomas finally said in a small, tired voice: 'What now?'

_Ah, yes._ The dilemma to end all dilemmas, and something Andy felt like he wasn't truly prepared for - not that he would let it show when Thomas was in such a fragile state. What was going to happen next? 

Andy hesitated - but just for second. His mind was made up. 'Listen, I'm going to take you to the doctor's in the morning.' Thomas winced at the mention of doctors, but Andy carried on regardless. '...Just like you want to go with me to my exam re-take. You can say whatever you feel like to them. I'm just there for support. It's all up to you, and I'm not going to pressure you. But I _will_ say this: You... You really need help, Thomas, I'm not joking. I don't want you this low again, a-and I know you don't want to be that low anymore either. I-I know you said no doctors, but you asked me what to do. Well, that's what I think you should do...' Andy swallowed nervously.

Thomas nodded, admitting defeat. 'Okay. Okay, we'll go to the doctor's in the morning.'

'G-Good. That's... Good.' Andy ran a hand through his hair, feeling tired beyond belief.

Thomas squeezed Andy's hand, hard, and Andy looked back down to meet Thomas' gaze. 'Thank-you,' Thomas said, quietly but fiercely.

'Anytime.'


End file.
